


In the Dark of the Night

by Bonfoi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Community: lupin_snape, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Sex Magic, Shakespeare, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Numerology and a mysterious stone circle, what could all this mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lore/gifts).



> For Lore, because she does so much for Lupin_Snape, encourages so many of us to write and read and enjoy...and because she’s held my hand a time or ten! Her 2011 birthday gift.

§¤§¤*§*¤§¤§ 

**_ Disclaimer:_** The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life. 

This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

§¤§¤*§*¤§¤§ 

Severus Snape, long thought dead by the inhabitants of the Wizarding World, had waited nine years to cast this Summoning. He’d spirited away Remus Lupin from under the uncaring noses of the Aurors and the inconsiderate care the moriwizards. He’d even bespelled Harry Potter from within the memories he’d leaked out as he ‘died’ in the Shrieking Shack, safeguarding their _afterlives_.

Nine long years since his off again-on again lover had been a fool and rushed in where angels had feared to tread and been thrust through the Veil by his deranged cousin’s _Avada Kedavra_. Since then he’d consulted forbidden texts and Dark Arts experts from all over the world under his cover as Albus Dumbledore’s Potions master. He’d interviewed portraits almost eight hundred years old, seeking the origin of the Veil, the mysteries of the Underworld, and resurrection magicks across time and space.

All of that had led to a long-hidden stone circle, eons older than Hogwarts Castle, even older than the Forbidden Forest that surrounded it. Severus had lifted the fallen stone lintels back into position and straightened the standing stones as well to align with the stars in their archaic orbits. The ancient altar, not quite in the center of the circle, had been overgrown by ivies and pockmarked by wind and weather—he’d remedied every flaw. Finally, he was ready for his ritual.

The empty altar was polished, yet still gritty to the touch, the grains of some of the larger minerals defying his scouring charms and glinting in the changing light. On it were candles, like black-and-gold marble, the swirling veins hinting at a fuzzy whiteness. A wicked Roman short sword, polished to a high sheen, its pommel newly dressed with well-worked doeskin, was nearby, ready to be used when the time came. A copper salver, etched with Norse runes and Celtic figures, shone in the waning sunlight, its dull glow a pool of red on the ancient stone altar. If one looked at the altar, it was as if a bloody moon had fallen into the granite, comets and stars of minerals sparkling around it.

Severus looked toward the mountains separating the rising moon from his secluded glade. He then turned toward the man splayed out and tied down on the matching altar he’d created just for his ritual.

“Are you relaxed, Lupin?”

“Just a bit more play in the braided ropes would be lovely, but I understand why I have to be stretched almost to the breaking point,” Remus Lupin responded with an almost saucy air. “I’m ready for what’s to come.”

“I must now remove your robe,” Severus said gently. He waited for Remus to nod and Banished the only thing between Lupin and the chilly stone and the sky. Old scars and recent wounds littered the werewolf’s torso, one vicious stitch track skittering over his ribs to end inches away from his groin. Severus traced that one with his eyes, restraining his twitching fingers with iron-clad resolve. He remembered how that track of raised tissue felt on his tongue, under his hands, pressed into his back and across his buttocks.

“It’s not as cold as I would have expected,” Remus said conversationally. His cock swelled under Severus’ watchful gaze, but neither one of them acknowledged it.

“If my research is correct, the stones of this circle not only retain the heat like any other rocks, but they will warm even more over the course of the ritual.” Severus shed his own robe by shrugging his shoulders. He caught the robe before it hit the ground, revealing Norse runes and Celtic symbols written in woad all over his body. The swirl in the middle of his back, just above the crack of his arse, drew Remus’ eyes and he turned awkwardly to watch as Severus cleared the sacred stone circle of anything they wouldn’t be using in the ritual.

“Take care that you don’t freeze, yourself, Severus,” Remus said softly.

“The ground is warming under my feet even as you fuss, Lupin.” Severus strode to the point where he was the apex of an equilateral triangle and the two altars the other “corners” of that triangle. The last rays of the sun gilded everything in reddish gold with a hint of a blush and then darkness abruptly descended on the Highlands.

Remus held his breath as Severus raised his arms and began chanting in a guttural language. The sounds were harsh, almost as if they were breaking the very air that carried them. A steady wind began blowing, causing leaves to swirl around the outside edges of the stone circle. Nothing but a faint breeze reached them, yet it felt like a multitude of fingers gently caressing Remus’ skin, paying particular attention to his bollocks and cock. He watched as Severus’ hair fluttered around his head, revealing and concealing that beaky nose of his and making his sensitive nipples pebble. Remus licked his lips, aware that his body was responding just as Severus had hoped it would…not that he’d doubted his attraction to the other man wouldn’t be potent, no matter the situation.

The sounds issuing from Severus’ mouth changed in tempo and cadence, the consonants becoming fluid and losing the hissing, hacked endings as the language of the first Celtic mages wafted away into the night sky. Soon, the crescent moon rose completely from behind the mountains, faint shadows growing under its lopsided gaze. From Remus’ vantage point, horns grew from Severus’ head until he wore the moon like a symbol on an ancient diadem. Then, it was above them, the language Severus chanted in once again changed, now the mellow, rounded sounds of centuries-old Gaelic burbling like a slow river over well-rounded rocks. Finally, the incantations became Latin, older than the form they used for spells, but more recognizable.

Phantom digits began caressing Remus’ body, exploring his cock and arse, teasing his nipples and those more sensitive scars, then they stilled and Remus bit his lip, trying to keep his moans of disappointment from breaking Severus’ rhythmic chanting. Slowly, the syllables faded away as the horned moon hovered over them. The wind outside of the stone circle gusted, branches bending under the force, yet not a breath of air stirred inside it.

“ _We offer our bodies and our essences. We ask for guidance and aid to bring forth he that should not have gone before us. We give ourselves over to the Horned One, to Hecate, to the night, to the moon, to Mother Earth…_ ”

The stones warmed under Remus’ body, heating the air pleasantly. His cock rose over his belly, his own polished pillar. He arched into the air, his toes curling as the phantom hands caressed him, prepared him for Severus. He moaned, a long and drawn-out sound that seemed magnified within the stone circle.

Severus’ voice died away as Remus’ moan encircled him, tugged at the shorthairs surrounding his own engorged cock, and drew him toward the stone altar his lover was bound upon. The sight of Remus writhing in ecstasy, his cock thrusting into the night sky, his long legs bending enough to allow whatever was with them in the stone circle to touch that wrinkled rose hidden between his buttocks, all of it enflamed Severus’ passions. He climbed onto the altar and replaced the phantom presence with his own hands, his own tongue, his own fingers.

“I will only share you with one other, Lupin!” Severus vowed in a rough voice. “I cannot go against who I am,” he cried as he plunged into Remus’ slick, rippling heat. They both gasped as Severus came to rest, bollocks’ deep inside Remus, his arms shaking as he held himself over Remus, the arcing night sky to Remus’ plowed earth. 

They made love even though Remus was bound to the altar. Severus kissed and licked and bit his way across Remus’ chest as he slowly, exceeding slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was held securely in Remus’ arse and then he began his relentless push back inside, back where he longed to be. Remus accommodated him to the best of his ability, relaxing his muscles and clenching them when Severus’ cock nudged his prostate, moaning out encouragement and pleas, letting Severus rule his body even as he left his mark on it.

Symbols vanished from Severus’ body to appear on the standing stones as they each neared the precipice. The night sky seemed to deepen, the stars becoming pinpoints of light that disappeared into a darker sign. Neither man took note of the changes, too caught up in their enchanted love-making. Lightning bolts crawled across the strange sky as Severus spent himself with a shout. Remus fell into his own orgasm an instant later, and a lightning bolt crashed into the empty altar.

A body formed on the altar, electricity fizzing in the mystically confined space. Hair dark as the midnight sky curled from a patrician brow. A fine nose appeared above a cupid bow and mobile lips. Lean, sculpted muscles were covered by fine, smooth skin colored with a faint blush of sun. Long, sensitive fingers appeared on large hands as a transparent chest filled with air and solidified as an exhalation happened. Lean, strong thighs led to long shanks and fine-boned, high-arched large feet. Finally, a thin, long cock materialized, faintly purple and uncut. The body took a deep breath and flexed from toes to eyes, limbs stretching to fill the space until the lightning disappeared.

Remus and Severus watched from their altar as the body—recognizable as Sirius Black—grabbed its cock and began tugging and twisting it, bright white, straight teeth biting a firm bottom lip in concentration. They watched him reach down to his bollocks, grunting as he fondled them and then pulled on the hairs there. When Sirius came in a rush, he arched up toward the night sky, his head and shoulders and his heels the only things on the altar. His cries of completion echoed in the stone circle and the swirl of woad on Severus’ back appeared on Sirius’ stomach, encircling his belly-button.

The stones began to sing around them, an otherworldly song that seemed to fill any empty spaces within each man, and yet showed them how they fit together. Severus dragged himself away from Remus with a murmured apology and then released him from the braided ropes and helped him down to the still warm ground. They stood together, watching Sirius slowly become aware of his surroundings. The song died away when Sirius looked in their direction.

Finally, Severus couldn’t stand the silence and called out, “Black! About bloody time you showed up!”

Remus choked and then laughed aloud. “After all that ritual you can shout at him?” he asked with a grin on his face. “Hallo, Sirius. Didn’t know Severus could be so single-minded, did you?”

Sirius Black rolled off the stone altar and jerkily walked across the smoothed ground of the stone circle. Remus’ eyes never left the swirl of woad on his stomach. He glanced down to see what Remus was staring at and then gave a barking laugh. “All those years ago you harangued me about getting tattooed and then you resurrect me with an ancient symbol as part of my skin.” He rubbed his fingers over the swirl. “It’s bloody real!” he cried.

“Well, what do you expect? Something has to be given to be shared and I wasn’t sacrificing Remus just so you’d get a whole skin,” Severus shot back. “Bloody wanker!” 

“I heard that, you beaky—”

Remus growled and both men stopped shouting. He turned and showed them his ribs, both sides decorated with the same swirl of woad. “You can complain all you want, but this symbol came from Severus, passed through me, and brought you back, literally centering your spirit. So, you’ll like it, Sirius, or you’ll keep quiet about it.”

He held one hand out to Sirius and one to Severus. “Now, can we kiss and make up before the spirits of this place decide we’ve spent overlong being childish about useless things?” Remus looked from one dark-haired man to the other, expectant.

“Aye, the wolf’s got the right of it, Black. If not for him, through nine long years, I would have been mad with grief and done something exceeding idiotic,” Severus finally conceded. He held out his free hand toward Sirius.

Black took three steps and grabbed Severus hand and then Remus’. As soon as the triangle was completed the otherworldly song crashed over the three men. They vibrated with the rising and falling melody, hands never letting go. The stones blazed with light, fluctuating with the song until it faded away, the stones slowly fading back to their normal color under the night sky. The warmth of the stone circle changed, and Severus’ wand flew into the circle and hovered over his right shoulder.

“Seems we’ve completed the ritual, Severus,” Remus said softly.

“I concur, yet I feel there is one more thing to do, to thank the powers-that-be,” Severus murmured.

“Hey, I just got here. Care to let me know what’s going on?” Sirius asked.

Remus and Severus pulled Sirius closer and then embraced him, kissed him one after the other, then laid him over the altar Remus and Severus had shared. They tasted his lips, his skin, and his cock. Fingers stretched Sirius, filling him, readying him for first Severus and then Remus, each of them branding him from the inside out as the other was worshiped by Sirius’ mobile lips and tongue, his large hands and strong fingers. They were a jumble of arms and legs, a moving mass of love-making.

The stone circle warmed again, this time a more gentle heat flowing from it to the altar and into the three men. The blank expanse of Severus’ lower back blossomed with another swirl of woad, this one with starshine mixed into the woad. Remus felt the warmth and tingle of magic under his lips as he kissed his way down Severus’ spine, but he refrained from commenting—he’d let Sirius be the one to call attention to the gift of the spirits of the stone circle.

†»§«|‡|»§«†

Hours passed, and finally, the trio fell into a healing sleep, curled together between Remus and Severus’ cloaks, Sirius sandwiched betwixt them, and a blanket of magic covering them.

Around them, the standing stones turned and shifted, the symbols taken from Severus’ body morphing as the stones became beings. One, a small man with a mischievous smirk and a rowan wand approached the sleepers and tapped their foreheads.

“Mighty Oberon, shall I send them on their way with only dreams of our hidden glade?” he asked.

A tall, regal man shook his head. “No, Master Puck, you wily trickster. They have earned their reward and their memories. I trust Master Snape will keep his tongue behind his teeth, and Master Lupin already gave Titania his word. Master Black…ah! He’s a trickster, like you, Puck, but he’ll bite his tongue to save his lovers’ souls.”

A woman, clad in scarves of spun evergreen needles and dotted with starry diamonds, floated close to Oberon. “Aye, my lord. The wolf spoke quite clearly three nights ago. I say let the lovers be, and bless them on their journey. ‘Tis their belief what gives us a foothold, and even unconsciously, they’ll spread word of us and keep us alive.”

“Then, merry spirits, and Master Puck, we shall away, to stride the Day, to enliven the Night, and bless the land with wit, whimsy, and magic!” Oberon shouted. The Fae, for that was what they were, sent bits of magic Severus, Remus, and Sirius’ way before they left their hidden glade to the men. None of them stirred, but each one’s dreams were never, ever dark or lonely again.

§¤§¤*§*¤§¤§ 

_~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.  
Thank you for reading. ~~~_

Moriwizard: a wizard skilled in mortuary magic. (a non-Potterverse word)


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